


Sound and Vision

by seratonation



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Alien Technology, Blindness, Deaf Clint Barton, F/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7519820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seratonation/pseuds/seratonation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Clint,” she said, eerily calm, lifting a hand to her eyes, “I can't see.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sound and Vision

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shenshen77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shenshen77/gifts).



> Thanks to A.A. for the beta <33

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Survey and extract, no contact. 

AIM wouldn't even know they were here. They shouldn't have. There was no reason for anyone to suspect SHIELD had intel on what happened at AIM’s base in Malaysia, or on the alien weapon they had reverse engineered. 

The first couple of days were easy, so maybe Clint let his guard down. He had eyes on Nat, and eyes on the target. The changeover was supposed to go down tonight, and they needed to make sure that it didn't happen. Get the weapon before it changes hands. 

He watched as Natasha silently took down the two guards, almost effortlessly. He loved watching her fight, her elegant style more of a dance than he could ever achieve. 

She grinned at their target, a large metal case with two separate codes on each lock. He really hoped he was never at the opposing end of that grin. 

“Target is secure,” she said into the comm unit. She stepped forward and put her hands on it. 

“Careful Nat,” he said, as she clicked open the case. 

“Just checking that we've got what we're after.”

There was a bright flash of light and he heard her gasp as she fell backwards to the ground. 

“Nat?” he said into the comm, already moving, jumping from boxes to crates to get to get to her, “Natasha!” he called once he got closer, sliding to the ground beside her. 

“Clint,” she said, eerily calm, lifting a hand to her eyes, “I can't see.”

“Right, time to go,” he said. He helped her up and picked up the case. 

He took her hand and led her away from the prone guards. “Just follow me, okay?”

“There’s people coming,” she said, “behind us, the door on the left, I think.”

“Okay, we’re just gonna lay low for a second, just here,” he told her, and ducked behind some crates, pulling her down with him, making sure they were both out of sight. 

They heard the guards burst through the doors, and once they saw their colleagues, they called for backup. 

“Stay here,” he murmured, and jumped up with his bow. It was easy to take down the two new thugs, but he had a feeling they wouldn’t be so lucky with the ones on the way. 

He took Natasha’s hand again. “Let’s go.”

They ducked out of the back door and onto the bike they’d left there. Natasha was the one that was supposed to take them home, but drastic times called for drastic measures. 

He led her hand to the bike, and got on so she could climb behind him. He tied his bow and quiver to his hip and then passed her the case to wedge between them. 

“You okay?” 

She nodded against his neck. “Do you know the way?”

“I’m sure I can figure it out,” he said, and felt her huff of laughter against his skin. 

He even almost made it, until he took a wrong turn. 

“You should’ve gone right here,” she said, “not left.”

“How do you even know where we are?” he asked, making a sharp u-turn anyway. 

“I have an excellent sense of direction,” she said, and he could hear the smirk on her voice. 

“Just don’t tell Hill,” he said, unable to stop his own grin. 

When they made it to the seedy motel, they stopped outside and he looked up the three flights of stairs.

“I could carry you?” he asked. 

“Don't you dare,” she said, “you go on ahead, just show me where the banister is and I’ll be okay.”

“Like hell,” he said, showing her the banister and taking her other hand anyway. 

It was slow going, but finally, finally, they made it to their room. 

He sat her down, and sat next to her. “I’m gonna report to Hill and ask her to bring up the extraction time, don’t move.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him, covering her eyes with her hands. 

***

Back at SHIELD, the doctors did all the checks they could. Clint sat outside, trying not to squirm as he watched them shine lights and frown at their paperwork. 

Eventually, they let him in to see her. 

“What did they say?” he asked.

“The usual,” she said, “‘they’re not sure, it’s probably temporary,’ you know.”

He nodded and then realised she couldn't tell. “Yeah,” he said, and tried not to think of his “probably temporary” loss of hearing, and how that hadn’t changed at all. 

“Take me home?” she asked.

The doctors had said she needed to stay for observation but he didn’t see the point. If they weren’t going to help her, she might as well be comfortable. 

He helped her out of bed, entwined their fingers together and led her out to his car. She laid her head back and closed her eyes as he drove to her apartment. 

***

They spent the day doing mostly nothing. They ordered chow mein and watched reruns of Friends until Clint started getting tired. 

“I’m going to take out my hearing aids, is that okay with you?”

She nodded. “Do you need me to sign? Or will you read my lips?”

“Sign,” he said, “but we don't need to talk.”

He took them out, and put his head in her lap. She buried her fingers in his short hair and he sighed. He could feel his own heartbeat, and he could feel her even breaths. 

He closed his eyes and watched the TV flicker behind his eyelids. He thought he was only asleep for a few minutes but when she shook him awake the TV was off and his limbs felt stiff and his eyelids heavy. 

He sat up and she took his hand. She signed for bed, her free hand under her cheek, and he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he said aloud, “let’s go.”

He pulled her up and they picked their way to her bedroom. 

***

It was morning when she woke him up again, this time with soft touches on his cheek and shoulder. Then the touches became soft kisses and he opened his eyes, smiling. 

He turned to face her and brought his own hand up to her cheek, a warning before he kissed her on the lips. 

She pulled him closer, her hands around his shoulders, pulling herself on top of him. 

“What are you doing?” he asked.

She just smiled, and trailed her hands down his sides and below his waistband.

“Oh,” he said, “okay.”

He started slowly, kissing her neck, cupping her breast under her shirt, but things soon became frantic as they shucked their clothes. He flipped them over with ease and he saw her ‘oh’ of surprise.

“Sorry,” he said, “ I should’ve-”

She interrupted him with her fingers, signing for him to shut up and kiss her. He grinned and pressed it to her lips, so she could feel it before he kissed her properly. 

He ran his hands all over her skin, sucking just under her breasts where he knew it was sensitive, scraping his blunt fingers over a knife scar on her right thigh, kissing at the bullet scar on her left hip, and running his fingers over the matching one on her back. 

She pulled him up by his shoulders and bit her lip, lifting one knee, and he really didn't need any other signs to know what she wanted. He slid inside her and there was a look of ecstasy on her face; her eyes closed, her head thrown back.

He pulled out and thrust again, setting up a steady rhythm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close so he could feel her breaths against his skin, her lips fluttering against his neck.

He slid a hand between them, parting her folds and rubbing against her clit. She gasped, her feet pushing against the mattress before she wrapped them around him, her ankles locking at the tail of his spine. 

He could see her chest rise and fall, her ribcage expanding under his hands, and he really couldn't take it any more. He said something that could have been her name, and he could almost feel her moan as everything became too much and too hot and too breathless. 

When she let him go, he rolled to the side, onto his back. She signed ‘good morning’ at him and he had to laugh. “Good morning to you too.”

‘Bathroom,’ she signed.

“Yeah,” he replied. He got up and led her there, “I’ll get my hearing aids while you’re in there.”

He found them on the coffee table where he’d left them the night before. By the time they were in and working, she was making her way down the hallway in one of his t-shirts, one hand on the wall as she walked. 

He smiled. “Breakfast?” he asked.

“I’m famished,” she said.

“That’s what happens when you get a good workout in before breakfast.”

She laughed. “Get over here then, and help me to the kitchen.”

“No, you’re not gonna make breakfast,” he said, taking her arm in his, “I know you think I’m useless in the kitchen-”

“You are useless in the kitchen,” she said, “but I’m going to direct you, and hopefully you can make something edible.”

“I do like it when you’re in charge,” he said, starting towards the kitchen.

She smirked. “I know.”

As she sat down at the table and started directing him, he realised he shouldn't have worried at all. Temporary or not, they would take everything in stride.


End file.
